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Anyhow, I want to see the rent paid, if you don't mind. I wish't you'd asked that mean old sculpin of a Hen Lord over; he owns my house an' it might put a few idees into his head!" In the afternoon Nancy took her writing pad and sat on the circular steps, where it was cool.
"She was a pretty baby, as you say, Ira." "Sarah was nice as she could be to you," was the old man's thoughtful comment. "Yes. But her husband, Bostwick, was only a mechanic. Of course, he left nothing. Them city folks are so improvident," said Prudence. "I wish't we was able to do something for little Ida May, Ira. Think of her workin' behind a counter!"
And chances are, Felix, we'll find those two boys sneaking up here before the middle of the night." "Wish't they would," chuckled the farm hand. "You're ready to give 'em a warm time of it, I guess, Andy. Be as good as any old circus to me, just to see how they jump when you open up. Let 'em come, says I. The sooner the better, too." Long they lay there, and talked in low tones.
"I just wanted to say, sir, that I wish't you'd let me come up of an evenin' and sit off in the corner there on that chair, and hear Doctor Bainbridge tell about Pym and Peters. I know you've been mighty good to tell me the most of it so far, but to-night he'll tell how that beautiful female loves Pym, like you said early this morning he was goin' to; and I'm awful anxious to hear soon.
We're all out," she said, as she began buttoning a stiff collar around his reluctant neck. "Remember? Land, yes! I wish't I ever could forgit anything! The butcher says he's 'bout tired o' travelin' over the country lookin' for critters to kill, but if he finds anything he'll be up along in the course of a week. He ain't a real smart butcher, Cyse Higgins ain't.
"I I done the best I could, Sis' Johnnie," he hesitated apologetically. "You wasn't thar, and Unc' Pros was gone, an' I thest worked the farm and took care of mother an' the little 'uns best I knowed how. But when she when he oh, I wish't you and Unc' Pros had been home to-day." Johnnie, her mind at rest about the children, turned to her mother. "Was ma sick?" she asked sympathetically.
About one o'clock on the following Wednesday, Uncle Bobbie Wicks dropped into the printing office. Udell had not returned from dinner. "Good afternoon, Mr. Wicks," said Dick, looking up from his work, "take a seat. You want to see a proof of those letter-heads, I suppose. Jack, take a proof of that stuff of Mr. Wicks'." Uncle Bobbie sank, puffing, into a chair. "I jing. Wish't I didn't get so fat.
"You own a star on the flag, same as everybody," argued Rebecca, who had been feeding on patriotism for a month; "and you own a state, too, like all the rest of us!" "Land! I wish't I did! or even a quarter section of one!" sighed Mr. Simpson, feeling somehow a little more poverty-stricken and discouraged than usual.
"Can't anybody go in if it's an exhibit by payin' suthin'?" "I mean, I don't know that they're hung." "Well, I wouldn't bother about that. I'd like to see 'em jest as well if they ain't hung. I'm putty tall, but I can scooch down as well as anybody. It'll seem kind o' good to see the ol' place. I was thinkin' this mornin' I wish't there was two-three rocks round somewheres.
A tall, bony colored woman now entered the kitchen, bearing on her head a basket of rusks and hot rolls. "Ho, Prue! you've come," said Dinah. Prue had a peculiar scowling expression of countenance, and a sullen, grumbling voice. She set down her basket, squatted herself down, and resting her elbows on her knees said, "O Lord! I wish't I 's dead!"
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